


Fluff on Their Own Terms

by Hezjena2023



Series: Silver!Verse - Finder’s Seeker [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Fluffcember 2020, Humerous, Oneshot, Varric's right - writing smut is hard, cracky-fluff?, friend's write each other smut, prompt: gift giving, rating is for Swords and Shield's excerpts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28216104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hezjena2023/pseuds/Hezjena2023
Summary: “Swords and Shields: The Knight Captain’s Cumupance?” Read the Inquisitor. “You’re not actually giving this to Cassandra. Are you?”“The Seeker asked for a sequel. She did not specify quality.”“You spelt Comeuppance wrong.”Varric glanced over the manuscript, corner of his mouth twisting up in a wicked smirk, “I think it fits the tone of the piece.”***Varric does not take writing Swords and Shield 2 seriously, Cassandra enjoys it anyway
Relationships: Cassandra Pentaghast & Varric Tethras
Series: Silver!Verse - Finder’s Seeker [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066982
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Fluff on Their Own Terms

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you to my gorgeous beta readers, [Beaubashley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beaubashley/pseuds/beaubashley) and [Delurk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryptographic_Delurk/pseuds/Cryptographic_Delurk)

Cassandra was pretty sure that Varric had been following her around Skyhold. She’d seen his face more times over the last week than she had the last few years. Or it felt that way, anyways, and that was saying something. Irritated and wanting very much to hit something, she turned towards the training courtyard, intent on releasing some of her pent up frustration on a straw filled man. 

Varric was there already, with his jacket undone and his hands on his knees. He looked particularly smug with his back against the wall of the Herald’s Rest. 

The straw-man training dummy would have to wait. 

“What?” Cassandra Pentagast demanded, her arms crossed over her chest and what she hoped was an intimidating expression on her face. She was tense, her shoulders ridgely straight. 

His chestnut eyes flicked up to her face, grin widening. “Ah, Seeker, good morning. How are you on this fine day?”

“Don’t try to butter me up, what do you want?” Cassandra grumbled. 

“Well wouldn’t you know, I was sat there by the fire about a week ago, and-” he raised his arm dramatically into the air for emphasis- “the thought struck me, like a meteor falling out of the skies. I should write a sequel to  _ Swords and Shields _ .” 

_ “Oh no.”  _ Fighting for words, Cassandra glared at him. “Did the Inquisitor set you up to this?”

Varric frowned, pointedly, his hand dropping back from the air. “The Inquisitor? Now just what would the Inquisitor have to do with any of this?” 

Cassandra flushed, she could feel the heat prickling painfully across her cheeks. She swallowed, her throat tight and her mouth getting drier by the second. “Nothing.”

“Ahhh-” he slapped her on the arm, lightly, he didn’t want to lose his head- “your secrets are safe with me.” She was highly strung and just too easy to wind up, and this was another in a long line of little payback for his interrogation back in Kirkwall. “I’d do anything for my biggest fan.”

Spluttering with indignation, Cassandra protested, “I am not your biggest… fan.” 

“Oh.” Varric’s face fell like that meteor he’d foreshadowed earlier. “Well, if you’re not interested in the next installment. I’ll stop writing it shall I?” 

“No!” Cassandra hissed so loudly that a small flock of crows took off from the curtain wall of Skyhold in a frantic panic. Her hands dropped to her sides and she squeezed her fists together tightly. “What I mean to say is, you left it on a cliffhanger.” 

Varric nodded approvingly as this was the first time she’d admitted that she’d actually read it. “So I did.” 

He was looking far, far to pleased with himself, Cassandra thought. “You never answered my question,” she redirected, face on fire with embarrassment. 

He cocked an eyebrow skyward. “And what was your question, Seeker? Oh, and don’t ruin the moment by asking where Hawke is.”

She snorted with disgust and practically growled, “there is  _ no moment _ .” She inhaled sharply, not letting herself be waylaid or talked in circles again. “Why are you following me?”

“You really want to know?” 

“Yes.” She said through gritted teeth.

He leant forward, and winked at her, “inspiration.” 

She gulped, audibly. Opened her mouth, a bit like a fish gulping for air as she tried to find words.  _ Was he messing with her? Or worse? Flirting? _

He laughed at her reaction, a soft friendly sound. “Do you think pectorals should be rippling or bulging?” 

Closing her eyes, Cassandra muttered darkly. She pinched her nose with her thumb and forefinger, and didn’t look at him as the word was torn from her mouth, “rippling.”

“Thank you, Seeker.” Varric nodded solemnly, before striding away, muttering. “Rippling pectorals, yes that will do nicely.” 

Safe to say that the training dummy didn’t stand a chance. 

“ _ Swords and Shields: The Knight Captain’s Cumupance? _ ” Read the Inquisitor, in a stilted sort of way as though he couldn’t believe what he was reading. “You’re not actually giving this to Cassandra.” One eyebrow raised and trying to look authoritative, with one hand ghosting over a hip. That was undercut by the way he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Are you?” 

“The Seeker asked for a sequel. She did not specify quality.” 

“You spelt ‘Comeuppance’ wrong.” The Inquisitor offered. 

Varric glanced over the manuscript, a corner of his mouth twisting up in a wicked smirk. “I think it fits the tone of the piece.” 

“You’re terrible. If I’d known you’d be writing, well, this-” the Inquisitor flicked to another random segment, coughing dramatically before reading aloud: “‘ _ He pulled out his flesh-sabre, thrust his steely dirk into her dripping sheath, conquering her with metronomic pounding. The wet slap of her lusty arousal echoed around the chamber, and she cried when he told her how lovely her Deep Road was.’  _ I wouldn’t have told you what Cassandra said.” 

“Everyone’s a critic.” Varric chortled, then frowned. “Is it too much?” 

Handing the book back, the Inquisitor brushed his hand across his face as though wiping away tears. “Not at all, Varric. I think it's… an achievement. But, you could make it much worse.”

“Don’t look at me while I’m reading,” Cassandra told Varric hotly after she’d practically torn his hand off after he’d shown her the manuscript. 

It hadn’t been professionally bound, it could barely be called a gift really. Maybe he should have saved it for Wintersend, gotten it properly presented, wrapped it up with some packing paper, and tied a bow around it. 

Cassandra’s eyes scanned over the page, her face an expressionless mask;, only the slightest tint of her cheek revealed she was at one of the really good bits. 

Or bad bits, depending on who you asked.

But it did make him nervous, her stoney silence. Her expressionless mask as her eyes scanned the page. He’d thought it would be worth it, the three weeks of furious writing to get the idea to paper, and now… he felt almost nervous, and Varric didn’t like feeling nervous. He wriggled out his wrist, waiting for some kind of feedback. 

“Seeker?”

_ “I am reading _ , Varric.” 

It seemed he wouldn’t be getting any feedback any time soon. So, Varric sighed and left her to it, deciding to get a drink at the Herald’s Rest instead; he needed to get something to school his nerves and settle that fluttering deep in the base of his stomach. Maybe, he shouldn’t have included the bit about: 

_ ‘...Her quivering mouth worked over his deepstalker, and his fingers got all twisted in her hair. She cruelly pulled away, as if to punish him, and he spilled his white gold over her voluptuous ladybumps.’  _

… But synonyms were difficult, and he’d already used all the good similes by the end of the first chapter. 

That was where Cassandra found him, in the Herald's Rest. She looked angry, and she slammed the book down heavily upon the watermarked table, a scowl on her face. 

“Varric-”

“I know, I know, it wasn’t my best work,” he interrupted, raising a couple fingers in a sort of apologetic gesture. It had been a pretty spiteful thing to do, but his curiosity won out, and he asked: “How far did you get?”

“I finished it.” Cassandra wasn’t meeting his eye and her palm was splayed over the title to keep anyone from accidentally glancing over and realising what she’d been reading. “It was...” she trailed off. It seemed the Seeker was struggling for words. 

_ So, it was really that bad _ . 

But then she kissed him on the cheek, pulling back so quickly that he thought he might have dreamt it (if dwarves could dream, that is). 

“Cassandra?”

“Thank you.” Cassandra nodded, her expression was still angry. But maybe that was just her face. She licked her lip. “I liked the ending,” she admitted, before adding, “and the middle… and the start. Well, it wasn’t your best work, but I very much liked that you wrote it for me.”

He watched her flush completely and gave him a flustered nod. 

She fled rather quickly after that. 

Varric cupped his cheek where she’d kissed him and nursed what was left of his ale.  _ She’d loved that he had written it for her?  _ Before he’d even left the Tavern, he had the plot for the real sequel. 


End file.
